


Charm

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Red Hood!Dick AU [12]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a murderer, and Tim was struggling to remember that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charm

**Author's Note:**

> I’m actually really glad someone picked up on that! I didn’t think I was writing that particular relationship very well. This would be towards the beginning of everything, me thinks, when Tim’s trying to not fall into Dick’s ‘trap’ like the others have. It’ll grows more into canonly what Tim and Dick are later, though Tim is always hesitant on the killing. He gives in because, well, everyone has their flaws. Augh, Tim you’re so complicated to write, I never do you justice. D:

He could feel eyes following him. As he punched his way through Crime Alley, as he stopped by GCPD, even as he helped that little old lady up her icy stoop.

He didn’t acknowledge them. No, he’d seen what happens when Damian asked, “What, Hood? Why are you staring at me?” or when Stephanie teased, “I bet if you take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

It was never bad. Normally affection-based. For Steph, a quick tease back, maybe a light punch to the arm. Jason would get a fist-bump or a clap on the shoulders. Damian always got the worst of it. He’d get swept up in a pair of arms, squeezed until he complained he couldn’t breathe. Probably a kiss or two.

No, never bad. Nice even. To be openly loved, and doted on. An exact opposite of Bruce’s kind of love, a type of appreciation they all _dreamed_ of sometimes.

But Tim didn’t want it.

Not from him.

Not from…from a _murderer_. 

But it was probably Tim’s fault, too. He should have cut the cord. Tell the Red Hood thanks but no thanks. That he was grateful for the man - zombie? Undead? - and his concern, but he didn’t want it. Not that brand of justice. Not that kind of retribution done in his name.

But he didn’t. Because he still followed the _rules_. He still stayed away from Bruce when he could help it. Still showed up to…what did Jason call them? _The Hump Day Dinner_. Every Wednesday, six o’clock sharp. A pizza, Chinese take-away, fast food, whatever. He, Jason and Steph would show up to Dick’s apartment - where _Damian_ was currently living and when did that _happen_? Why were they all so _okay_ with that? - eat until they were full, talk until they were hoarse, sometimes even stay the night if they got too tired.

Tim never stayed the night.

And there were so many times. _So many times_ that he wanted to. Just stay on that old sofa. For hours. For _days_ , even. Because it seemed so easy. Dick was so easygoing, so _caring_ , and he made it so clear he wanted nothing in return, least of all from their broken little group.

“Part of his charm.” Jason had said one day, after one of those dinners, when he decided to take Tim home himself. “Alfie says he’s always had it. _'No one can resist the smile of a Grayson, Master Jason.’_ the old man always said. And it’s not fake, as far as I can tell, not like Bruce’s. Just go with it, Timmers.”

But he couldn’t. He’s never been able to _'just go with it.’_  Not with people. Jason better than anyone should _know_ that.

He heard the soft exhale of breath, seconds later the crunch of a land. And maybe because he was already tired, maybe because things were weird with the Titans and weird with Bruce, maybe because this night wasn’t his best.

"If it’s okay with you,” Tim sighed, glancing over his shoulder as the Red Hood walked up behind him. “But I’m not much for talking tonight. At least not…not to you, if you don’t mind.” Tim turned back towards the city, exhaled and watched his breath curl into the sky. “I know you’re big on sharing feelings, but I…Look, if you’re really going to force me into talking, can you just call Jason for me?”

“I can do that for you, sure.” Dick shrugged. His voice was metallic through the helmet’s voice synthesizer. “That’s not what I’m here for, though.”

“No?” Tim asked. “Then…um, what’s up?”

“It’s ten below zero.” Dick said bluntly. “And, while adding pants to the Robin costume was your idea - kudos for that, by the way - and you’ve kept up the trend…you’ve still gotta be pretty damn cold.”

Tim blinked. Oh. Yeah. He was. He was absolutely frigid, actually.

“So, I brought you a blanket.” Tim turned completely then, eyes widening as, well, Dick stood there with his arms outstretched, a large pink blanket strung between them. Tim just blinked at it. 

“Oh. Um.” Tim reached out, though Dick pulled back at the last second. Instead, he spread the blanket out in his hands, moving forward and bundling it around Tim like he was a walking baby. “Thanks?”

“I mean, my place is like, two blocks from here, so it’d probably be better for you to come into the warmth, but you know.” Dick shrugged, running his hands up and down Tim’s arms real quick. “This might do you some good for a while.”

“I-I didn’t,” Tim stuttered. “Your apartment is fine, I never-”

“You didn’t have to, bro.” Dick’s tinny voice cut off. “I know this is all still weird for you.”

And it had nothing to do with the blanket, but Tim felt his face heat up. “I told Jay and Steph that in _confi_ -”

“Please, as if I needed to hear it from them.” Dick chuckled, but it was a little bitter, a little sad as he released Tim’s shoulders. “It’s fine, I get it, no biggie. Just, please don’t wait until after you can’t feel your toes to call it a night, okay?”

Dick started to walk away then, thumbs looped forlornly into his holsters. And Tim…curse his morality. Curse his…his need to fix everything.

“I’m sorry.” He called. “I…it’s not you, it’s-”

“It’s not you, it’s me?” Dick returned, not looking back, though stopping. “Come on, Timmy. You can do better than that.”

“No, it’s-!” Tim sighed, a long string of breath disappearing into the air like a soul. “You _kill_ people, Dick. And I’m…I’m not okay with that.”

“I know.” Dick shrugged. His masked turned up towards the sky. “You don’t have to be.”

“I mean, I’m grateful. In theory.” Tim tried.

“I know.” Dick repeated. And he turned this time, but the gesture was pointless. The helmet blocked his emotions. “Sorry, bud, but I’m not going to stop. I’m going to keep protecting you. And if it involves killing scumbags who think it’s cool to string you and your friends up and beating you senseless…well, that’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.”

Tim pursed his lips. Looked down at his boots.

“I’m not going to give up on you, though.” Dick hummed. “You’re cool, Tim. I like your spunk. I hope we can be friends one day, you and I.”

Tim just peeked up, like he was ten years old again. Shy and unsure.

It came out before he could think. “Yeah. Me too.”

And even with the mask, Dick’s shoulders straightened. His head cocked just so, and Tim could tell he was smiling. 

“But seriously, I hear you’re still out here with unfeelable toes, I’m coming after you.” Dick pointed at him sternly. “Also, if you don’t mind, return the blanket? Not mine, it’s Ms. Anderson’s down the hall. Before the end of the night, if it’s possible?”

“Sure.” Tim muttered, gripping at the blanket’s edges. Dick nodded, and without another word, launched himself off the roof.

~~

Two hours later, Dick heard a knock at the door. It was Tim, still wrapped in the fluffy pink blanket, ice sticking to his nostrils and the tip of his hair.

“Bike’s frozen solid.” Tim explained. “Mind if I call for a ride?”

“I can do you one better. Give you the couch for the night?” Dick suggested. And it was silly, how hard it was to keep the hope out of his voice. And Tim pursed his lips, furrowed his brow in thought. It was a tense few seconds, and Dick expected the worse. Suddenly Tim’s face relaxed, and the kid even smiled. Amused, a little resigned, a tiny bit hopeful.

His whole life has been about taking chances. He took one on Batman, on Jason. On Steph. Kon, Cassie, Bart. On being Robin. On being _Red_ Robin. What’s one more? Why couldn’t he take a chance on Dick Grayson? On the murderer with a good heart?

It would be hard. It would take a while. But this was a first step. A tiny one, not a whole lot. Not everything, not all at once. But it was good enough. For him, and for Dick too, if his matching grin was anything to go by.

“Why not.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Red Hood!Dick stories.](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/tagged/Redhood%21Dick+au)


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